


Risk

by Kass



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Control, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-01
Updated: 2008-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 01:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/pseuds/Kass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How much risk is House willing to take?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Risk

**Author's Note:**

> I can't call this a story, exactly. It's more of a what-happened-afterwards, set immediately following (and containing spoilers for) House 1x14, "Control." House/Wilson, not explicit but hopefully tasty anyway. I wrote it as an exercise, to see if I could make this idea fit 500 words, and then decided I liked it well enough to share.

Wilson started in before he'd even hung up his coat. "I know you don't want to talk about it."

"You're right! I don't." House collapsed onto a chair, more relieved to be home than he wanted to admit.

"Unfortunately, you can't always get what you want."

"I've heard that. Can't we skip this part? I'll save you the trouble: I was irresponsible. All's well that ends well. Okay? Are we done now?"

"Ends well? You think this is over? Because I don't."

Well, circumventing the conversation had been worth a try. House shrugged. He didn't disagree; he just didn't want to discuss it.

But Wilson could be a stubborn bastard. "Cuddy could tell you were being cagey in the transplant committee meeting. And Vogler—"

"Fuck Vogler." House levered himself up, pushing past Wilson on his way to the liquor cabinet. If they were going to talk about this, he needed a drink. Badly.

"For God's sake, use your much-vaunted brain, would you? You're lucky they didn't fire you."

No, I'm lucky they didn't fire _you,_ House thought, pouring two fingers of whiskey into his glass. "Tenure," he said, airily. The word had lost its power to comfort him, but he wasn't about to let on.

"You don't think Vogler can find a way around that, if he wants to?"

Damn. House really didn't want to talk about that. "Anyway, she wanted to live."

"Funny; I'll bet everyone else on the transplant list does, too." Great: now Wilson was getting pissy. Just what House needed. The perfect topper to an otherwise beautiful day.

"They're not my patients." House slugged back his drink. He just wanted to get drunk, get laid, and go to sleep, in that order. And yet he was having a conversation about medical ethics. Because Wilson wanted to. Don't ever say I don't do anything for you, he thought, sourly.

"Also—you put me in an awkward position." There it was, the wounded tone he'd been expecting.

"Yeah. I did." It wasn't an apology.

Wilson exhaled, and suddenly House could see the tiredness in him. His head tipped back on the couch. "Just...be careful," he said to the ceiling. "Please."

The concern warmed him. Or maybe that was the scotch. Either way, sarcasm was the better part of valor. "Yes, Mommy."

Wilson raised his head. "It's a brave new world with Vogler in charge, Greg."

"You sure you want to be associating with me, then?" As flippant as he could manage. Wanting, and not-wanting, Wilson to hear the warning behind the words. Damning himself for the fact that he needed Wilson too much to protect him by cutting him loose.

Wilson just looked at him, intent and unreadable. "Let's go to bed."

It wasn't a clear answer. But as Wilson's mouth descended along his body, wringing a choked gasp and his usual string of muttered curses, House prayed to whatever deity might be listening that Wilson understood the risk in their liaison. And would choose it anyway.


End file.
